


The Perks of Being a Cannibal

by FauxFidele



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: #ItsStillBeautiful, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort, Domestic Kink, Fluff, I'll keep the tragedy to a minimum, Kissing, M/M, Murder Husbands, Oral Sex, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Rimming, Romance, Some Humor, Stargazing, Teasing, Will still loves dogs, but still follows canon, everyone is a movie cliched version of themselves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-07 07:24:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7705741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FauxFidele/pseuds/FauxFidele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Hannibal Season 4 takes place as a romcom<br/>#ItsStillBeautiful<br/> </p><p>This fic pays homage to all the best and worst romantic comedies that I've been subjected to over the years. I hope you'll see (and enjoy) the references sprinkled everywhere. I own nothing in this story but my words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Llewcie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llewcie/gifts).



> So many thanks to @Llewcie and the voodoo Gifmaster @Sirenja who actually came up with the title of this fic. Also just everyone in the Cannibal Pub. xD
> 
> I have a few chapters done, will post intermittently throughout #ItsStillBeautiful week and continue along until it's finished, hoping to keep it 10-15 chapters (I'll hate myself for saying that when it turns into a monster). 
> 
> Very possible that I will update with gifs/artwork throughout the week as well. 
> 
> As always, will update tags as the chapters go along. 
> 
> ***PSA OVER***
> 
> Please enjoy and leave feedback if you have suggestions or comments, it is my favorite and I'll weep all the tears of joy. - Emilymeow/FauxFidele

 

 

 

 

Will's just a boy who fell in love,  
only the boy he fell for   
happens to be a cannibalistic serial killer.

 

* * *

 

Upon opening the front door, Will was still fussing and grumbling under his breath. The walk home from the market had been chillier than he’d anticipated, and the wind was coming off the ocean with a blustery, fierce kick, making his once-tamed curls now look like an abandoned bird’s nest. One arm held the paper bag of groceries securely as the other tugged at the knots in his hair, when suddenly he looked up, sensing the presence of someone in the room.

Will’s pupils became large and narrowed in on the older man standing in front of him, his brows drawing together at the center of his forehead, mouth limply falling agape. The overstuffed paper bag slid down along his frame until it rested on the floor, all the while his gaze fixed on Hannibal.

Swallowing down a large gulp, Hannibal averted his eyes and cleared his throat, his words still a little scratchy. “I may have overreacted.”

The lack of a response forced Hannibal to peer up slowly, taking in full sight of the younger man, standing with arms crossed, his hair a wild, tangled mess, eyes abundant with tension. Will lifted his brows with a mocking smile, scoffing.

“ _May_ have?” he said, bitingly, following it with a long sigh, accentuating his disappointment through pursed lips and wide, unrelenting eyes.

They’d only just started settling in here, having taken up in a small cabin just outside a quiet town in Slovenia, just off the coast of the Adriatic Sea. Recently Will noticed that the edge had finally started to wane; that feeling of being followed or watched had been constantly pressing at the forefront of his mind, making him cagey and even more neurotic than usual, finally receding. Now, the coil of anxiety wrapped around him once more, holding his breath captive.

He grabbed hold of the nearest ledge for stability, shifting his focus to the kitchen, where the shape of a hand was imprinted into the tile countertop, smeared red and thick around the outline of the palm. A coagulated mess trailed down the side of the island counter, creating a pool of crimson broth on the floor. Next to the puddle was a lump of clothes, and somewhere underneath the carnage, a man. A very _dead_ man. Hannibal’s eyes followed Will’s, both men deliberating while taking in the sight.

“That’s the butcher,” Will said, finally, his tone a little higher than he’d meant it to be.

Hannibal straightened himself up, eyes wide and ready for defense. “ _Yes_ ,” he said curtly.

His sleeve was covered in splatters of blood, dark spots contrasting against the blinding, crisp white of his shirt, a large kitchen knife still gripped tensely in his fist.

Will shifted his body, resting a hand on his hip, and opened his mouth to speak a few times, but couldn't quite decide what to say. Frustrated, he let out a loud, exasperated huff, and just glared. He waited at the edge of a pregnant pause, finally finding his words.

“Is this your idea of discretion?” Will snapped accusingly. 

“In my defense …” Hannibal interjected, pausing as he bit at his bottom lip, “he attempted to sell me liver instead of kidney, _as if_ I couldn't tell the difference.”

He stared back blankly. “You _actually_ look like a deranged serial killer.”

Hannibal’s eyes widened, overreacting with offense. “He _overcharged me_!”

A puzzled expression crossed Will’s face as he shook his head. “Hannibal …”

“I proposed an _entirely_ reasonable, diplomatic solution,” he said, his voice rising off key, a subtle hint of pleading underneath, “but he refused my service instead.”

Hannibal wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, taking a swipe at his sweaty forehead, but instead left a smudged, bloody streak across his face and even a little in his unkempt hair, the realization hitting him as he looked down to the knife that was still clenched between his fingers and cursed under his breath.

He continued, his voice lacking its usual poise. “Naturally, I offered to demonstrate how one would correctly distinguish between a liver and a kidney -”

“Alright, alright …” Will said with a wince and motioned for him to stop. “I got the gyst of it,” he said with a long, winded sigh.

He dutifully obliged, stilling himself and not finishing the sentence, and Will reached out his hand, his open palm gesturing for the blade. The older man relaxed his grip, allowing him to take it, their fingers lightly grazing against each other during the exchange.  Will placed it on the counter and, spinning on his toes, he grabbed the older man’s arm as he turned. Hannibal’s chest tightened and his heart pounded between his ears as the younger man held him forcefully, clinging just below the elbow.

When their eyes met, Will’s wide, steely eyes softened, and suddenly, long fingers threaded into Hannibal’s, squeezing lightly. His entire body loosened at the touch, a snapped rubber band under the comfort of Will’s assurance. He let himself take a long, deep breath.

“You cannot …” Will said, his tone gentler than before, enunciating his words slowly, “just _murder_ every person who annoys you.” The buildings of a smile twitched at his lips.

“I don’t _murder every person who annoys me_ ,” he said, reiterating Will’s words with a huff and slipping his hand out from Will’s, creating a conversational distance. “ _You’re_ here, for example.” Hannibal raised a wicked eyebrow, eyes glinting at his own quip.  

Will’s face dropped into a frown.

“Not funny, _actually_ ,” he said dismissively, adding a flippant roll of his eyes.

“We can’t afford to be reckless… not after what happened. With Bedelia.” Will made a particularly sour face when he said the name, wrinkling his nose.

 _"I know this_ ,” Hannibal snipped impatiently, running a hand through his hair, sweat and blood and salt off the ocean ensuring that the strands wouldn’t cooperate, instead sticking up wildly in all the wrong directions. “I assure you, Will, I am keenly aware of our situation.”

Hannibal folded his arms, looking to the floor, his blood-soaked sleeve on full display, perfectly coordinating with the rogue strands of hair falling from his head in every direction and the streaks of color smeared across his face, completing his look. Will almost laughed, but tried to focus on his frustration, and _not_ the adorable way Hannibal’s hair stuck out at the sides, making him look like a frenzied, homicidal terrier. Will cleared his throat, disguising the grin that tried to break through.

The older man seemed to have realized his hair was contaminated, and he began nervously tugging at it, muttering under his breath.

“ _Hey_ ,” Will offered softly, still slightly hesitant. Hannibal looked up, and he stepped in so close that he felt the older man’s breath, savory and warm, teasing against his skin.

It ignited a current that sparked right through him, and suddenly he was hyper-aware of the man standing in front of him, inexplicably unable to form words. He reached a reluctant, trembling hand to rest on the broad shoulder in front of him, tracing his fingers along the outline of his muscles, which were evident to the point of obscene, nearly protruding from underneath the dress shirt.

Hannibal swallowed, frozen in place under Will’s touch, but his exhales were suddenly sharper … quicker. He stared down at Will, examining the patchy spot on his cheek that never grew hair, right above his jawline. It was harder to see now, he noticed, as Will hadn’t shaved in weeks, keeping in tune with their incognito lifestyle.

“You’re staring,” Will said, his voice cracking nervously.

Hannibal’s eyes flitted up and down, appreciating … _admiring_. “You’re beautiful,” he said, voice husky and syrupy smooth. Will retracted his hand immediately.

He took a step back, shaking his head and scoffing under his breath. “You can’t do that.”

Hannibal peered innocently at him. “Do what, exactly?” When he lifted his brows inquisitively, he saw the flash of a small, coy smile on the younger man.

“You _know_ what,” Will said, eyes alight and kindling with amusement.

“Anyways ...” he continued, “let’s just talk about these things first, going forward.” Hannibal remained still, curiously analyzing his companion, both fascinated and a little reluctant.

“Okay … new rule,” Will continued, pausing only to expose his teeth in a half-smirking grin that would devastate even the most shriveled and barren of hearts, “ _No surprise murder_.”

Hannibal couldn’t repress the way his lips spread open to smile, the warmth of relief coursing through his veins, magnifying his inability to control the idiotic grin from stretching ear to ear.

“As you wish,” he said, his sharp teeth making an uncharacteristic appearance as he beamed, his eyes fixated on the younger man’s face once again, memorizing the color of his lips for the thousandth time. He decided it was impossible to name the color, as he’d never set eyes on something with the rich and pliant luster of cherries, deceptively deep and affecting, like the berries in his favorite Sangiovese blend; impossibly pink, and delectable beyond all compare - Will’s lips could never be reduced to the banality of a single descriptive word.

“You’re staring again,” Will said, smirking faintly. Hannibal didn’t argue, but his breath suddenly felt shallow and hitched in the back of his throat.

“How can I help it?” he said, hushed, under a heavy breath.

“Don’t … _do that_ ,” Will said, trying to suppress a smile. He looked down, twisting a foot and kicking at the floor absently, he slowly lifted his eyes. “I don’t like it.” Redness flushed his cheeks, rebelliously contradicting his words.

Hannibal huffed a condescending laugh. “You don’t like it when I compliment you, Will?”

“Nope,” he said nervously, chewing his lip, “sure … don’t.” The last word was almost too quiet to hear, his words just trailing off as he stared up at the doctor, defeated, and shrugged helplessly.

Hannibal cupped his fingers over Will’s cheek, the mottled blood still thick on his hands, seemingly unnoticed by both men.  “You can leave, you know,” he said, thick and rumbling from his belly, “I wouldn’t stop you.” His eyes narrowed in with excruciating focus, waiting expectantly.

Will swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple flexing its way down his throat. He looked over to the body, eyes barely lingering on the gruesome scene. He shifted his sight, gazing off in the distance, before focusing back on the man in front of him.

Shifting to the tops of his toes, he grabbed the other man by the collar and tugged him in close, brushing his lips over the corner of Hannibal’s slightly parted mouth and then in for a brief, ever-so-delicate kiss. He pulled back, the other man nearly falling forward from the loss, a warm smile softening his features.

Nudging their heads together, Will’s messy curls pressed into his forehead, their noses grazing against one another gently, sending the chill of a shiver down his spine. Hannibal couldn’t resist sweetly kissing into his cheek, then moving to the tip of his nose and then his jawline, stealing as many fleeting touches as he could.

“You always wanted to show me Italy,” Will whispered, the words tickling against Hannibal’s skin.

He groaned appreciatively and couldn't refuse another taste, finding Will’s lips once again and pushed his own between them, mouthing softly. Lingering just a bit longer this time, he savored the little moaning noises and sucking sounds coming from the younger man.

When he made himself pull away, Hannibal chuckled a bit and hummed agreeably. “Yes, I think I would like that.”

He wrapped his arms around him, tucking the slightly smaller-framed man into his shoulder, folding him in with ease. He sunk his face into the dark and tangled chaos of Will’s hair, inhaling and identifying all the scents - salt, shampoo and soap, sweat, and that indescribably euphoric scent that was uniquely _his_.

“Hannibal …” Will said, his eyes wandering briefly back to the situation in their kitchen and then back up to the man cradling him, looking up through his lashes.

A warm smile spread across his face, his insides turning to mush, as they always did when he looked at him this way. “Yes, my love?”

“Am I going to find a liver in our freezer?”

Will’s focus was unwavering, but his tone was more inquisitive than accusatory. Hannibal’s face went blank and he dropped his arms, letting Will out of his hold.

“Of course not!” he exclaimed, possessing the audacity to look offended.

Will reared his head back so he could obtain the perfect angle to give an effective side-eye. Hannibal’s mouth fell open as he read the look of disbelief on his companion’s face.

“ _What_?” he challenged, huffing out an exasperated breath, golden-glazed eyes brimming wide and innocent.

Will didn't budge, only lifting a single, distrusting brow.

Hannibal sighed heavily. “His liver was a travesty,” he said plainly, pausing, “if you must know.”

“But …” Will said, prodding him along expectantly.

“ _But_ …” One corner of Hannibal’s mouth twitched briefly, mocking a smile. “Perhaps … I _did_ take a parting gift.” He was so indignant in his tone that Will was more impressed than surprised, and found himself chuckling, breaking the faux-tension.

“You're absurd, honestly …” Will mumbled.

“Just a bit off his chubby, fat cheeks,” Hannibal said, now touting his blue-ribbon smile, pleased as hell with whatever thought just crossed his mind.

“Don't you _dare_ …” Will interrupted, as if he knew exactly what he would say.

Hannibal beamed, predictably unable to resist. “Well, he really  _was_ a cheeky bastard …”

Will rolled his eyes and glared icily at the man in front of him, reconsidering all the steps that led him here, standing in front of this ridiculous enigma. He sighed, running his hands over his face and shook his head absently, then turned to leave Hannibal alone, punishment for his stupid joke.

He walked away, letting the smile form only when he was positive he was out of Hannibal's sight, and began to pack for Italy. 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Graham just can't get enough of Hannibal Lecter in a pair of blue jeans, but Hannibal only has eyes for his bed. 
> 
> Or does he ...?
> 
> (Long chapter, but I've rewarded you with porn I promise)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for @starkaryen and @firuflies and @llewcie. 
> 
> You know why. And not for porn reasons, you filthy murder angels. ENJOY!

Will remembered the first time he saw Hannibal wearing jeans.

He’d only ever seen the psychiatrist in fancy, custom-made suits or Italian cashmere sweaters so the contrast was jarring, causing him to do a double take to make sure he’d seen correctly. Like everything else he owned, they looked designer - probably expensive as hell - but it added a weird informality to his appearance that Will had liked, and it brought a smile to his face even then.

He couldn’t quite pin down the exact moment when he started noticing the way the denim crimped into little folds around the hips, bunching a bit under the pockets, muscular legs filling out the fabric with divinely-inspired precision. He’d often wondered if Hannibal even took his jeans to the tailor, and at some point decided that he did. 

Will _did_ , however, remember the first time he’d wanted to slide his hands around those hips, into the thick seams of his pockets and tug them down, baring just a tease of his ass - yet _just_ enough - and bend him over the nearest hard surface he could find.

It took weeks for him to work up the courage to act on it, and even then, it was several glasses of wine before he placed a trembling hand on Hannibal's waist and drew him in for a frail, tender kiss. Over time things became more intimate, but their liaisons were limited due to the volatile environment that surrounded their friendship.

Before “The Fall,” Will let his instincts get the better of him, and hours before Frances Dollarhyde crashed their dinner party, Will finally made good on that promise to bend him over the nearest surface he could find. And then some.

After their cliff diving excursion, both men were in terrible condition from their injuries. The tedious recovery process had required them to limit any kind of rigorous activity, including (or especially) _that_ kind of activity. Though they'd slowly been warming back up, the extraneous tension was always thick and looming.

The day they packed for Italy was unseasonably warm, and Hannibal wore only jeans and a white undershirt that kept getting stuck in one side of his denim waistband. He’d not bothered cutting his hair since the fall, the strands long enough now to tuck back behind his ears, though they never stayed in place for long and more often than not ended up draping over his brows. He pushed the uncooperative pieces out of his face, sighing heavily, simultaneously wiping the sweat from his forehead. His three-day-old scruff glistened silver and gold as he stood in front of the kitchen window, the dawn light just starting to pour in. 

A throat cleared. “Are you just going to stand there and watch?” Hannibal asked, taking note of Will’s lingering appraisal. He smiled fondly, waggling his brows.

Will’s cheeks flushed a bit at being discovered, but he smiled deliciously with an appreciative hum.

“That was _exactly_ what I planned on doing, actually.”

Hannibal rolled his eyes and tossed an empty garbage bag toward him, which he caught with ease. “Alright, alright. I’m coming,” Will said, shooing him away with the swipe of a hand. 

As Hannibal headed down the hallway, Will allowed himself one last moment to appreciate the view, cocking his head to the side, admiring the way his pockets seemed almost glued perfectly in place as he moved down the hall, strutting gracefully as if it were his own private catwalk.

“ _Stop staring at my ass, Will_ ,” Hannibal scolded loudly, sounding far away as he turned off into a room.

 Will shook his head, grinning like a madman, and finally went to pack his things.

 

* * *

 

The men packed up the car - a modest, beige sedan - and made sure they didn't leave anything behind. After finally burying, spreading, and submerging the last of the evidence, they headed west, Hannibal intent on keeping his promise of taking Will to Italy.

There were multiple stops along the way. Hannibal pulled over shortly after they drove past the border, making a clandestine pit stop at a small, seemingly abandoned shack in the countryside. When he returned to the car, he carried an envelope and opened it for Will, revealing a small stack of documents.

“Our new identities,” Hannibal said, answering the question before the other could ask.

Will nodded, eyes flitting down the page. “Phillip Turner,” he said aloud.

Hannibal smiled. “I think it suits you.” Will shrugged ambivalently, flipping through the documents.

“ _Gustav Falk_!” Will said, giggling, using a nonexistent psuedo-accent. “I like it. Can I call you ‘ _Gustav_ ’?”

Hannibal grinned, then pursed his lips, as if his mind was drifting elsewhere. “I’d rather you not have to use it at all,” he said, contemplating the thought. “We’ll use the cash where we can, avoid names.”

“I know, I know,” Will said, making a calm-down type of gesture with his hands. “We’ve been over it, I remember. You’re the _criminal mastermind_.” He smiled wryly when Hannibal shot him a nasty look from the driver’s seat.  

Hannibal sighed dramatically, huffing out a deep exhale. “When we reach the outskirts of the city, my contact has another means of transportation waiting for us,” Hannibal said, casually passing along the information, and purposely ignoring Will’s commentary.

Instead of replying with a snarky quip, Will nodded agreeably, taking in a sharp, deep breath. “I’ll follow your lead.” 

When they finally swapped vehicles and transferred their things, the little Fiat that had awaited them proved to be pathetically substandard in space.  Will massively enjoyed the discomfort it caused Hannibal, though, and was willing to overlook the cramped quarters if not just to watch the older man’s highly agitated face as he hunched over while driving the tiny car, as the top of his head would hit the ceiling should he sit up straight.

No one was happier than Hannibal when they finally spotted a sign for a tiny bed and breakfast and followed a series of winding roads, the inn tucked away between hills and wild foliage.

When they pulled in, Hannibal sprang out of the car and entered through a creaky, slatted door, presumably the front entrance, as it was the only one in sight. He walked back out, his expression tight, having found no one inside.

Will jumped out of the car and stretched his legs, slowly walking around the side to look for any sign of life. As he turned the corner, the sound of feet against the ground grabbed his attention before a streak of white flew by him, and suddenly … He was on the ground.

He couldn't even open his eyes due to the relentless, slobbery attack being unleashed by the white flash, which now looked more like a collie mix, brown marbling randomly blotched over his furry, ivory coat. 

Will laughed as the dog continued to lick at him enthusiastically, gently pushing him to the side.

“ _Down_!” he shouted, but with a grin that could hardly contain his giggling.

He heard a shout from further away. “ _Pepi_!”

The voice grew closer. A man was bickering at the dog, voice raised but not too harsh. As the dog backed away at his owner’s command, Will rose to his feet, dusting himself off.

“Hello,” Will said, standing up straight, “it's fine, really. I love dogs.”

He grinned at the gentleman now facing him, an older man, short and sturdy with wild curly hair. “... _Uh_ , Phillip,” he said, his words faltering a bit as he remembered his new identity.

“ _Buongiorno_.” The older man looked embarrassed. “I'm so sorry about the dog.” His accent was thick, but his words were easy to understand, tone gentle and warm. “ _Marco_ ,” he said, introducing himself with a smile.

Hannibal appeared from the side, making a quip in an unfamiliar language that Will deduced to be Italian, and both he and Marco laughed. When Will gave him a questioning look, Hannibal shrugged.

“Just verifying your claim about loving dogs,” he said with a twinkle livening up his eyes. Will glared at him playfully with a sigh as they walked in unison, all of them heading around front to enter the building.

Their room was quaint, tiny but tasteful, which Will knew would satisfy Hannibal for the time being. He brought his change of clothes in, inspecting the room aimlessly along the way, before letting himself fall back on the antique bed that sat perfectly centered against the wall. He rested his head on the soft pillows, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he had the distinct suspicion that more time had passed than he’d meant.

He got up and noticed no sign of Hannibal, but saw the other man’s smaller bag sitting atop the dresser. Of course he’d just let him sleep. _Always so polite about that_ , Will mused to himself, convinced that Hannibal just loved any chance of alone time for various plotting and scheming opportunities.

He walked into the lobby, a small, empty desk where Marco presumably spent part of his day. Through a hallway, he heard voices and entered to see the two men, Hannibal and Marco, sharing a bottle of wine and carrying on splendidly, laughing and chatting away.

“Good evening, Phillip,” Hannibal said pleasantly, ushering him over with a wave of the hand.

Will offered a strained smile, still a little groggy from his nap, walking over to their table to join. He merely nodded in response, humming an acknowledgment. 

Hannibal picked up the bottle of wine and showed it off to Will, making an impressed face. “ _Oh_ ,” he said, noticing the handmade label, “did you make this yourself?” Marco nodded, smiling proudly. 

“He's quite the vintner, actually,” Hannibal said, his lightness and chipper tone indicating that he'd taken the liberty to sample some of the goods already, clearly approving, and on cue he took a sip from the glass in front of him.

“No, no …” Marco said, shaking his head, waving off the compliment and Will chuckled politely. “Just for fun.” Hannibal poured him a glass, making himself at home, grabbing a glass from a nearby counter.

“See for yourself,” he said, pouring a small splash into the glass. Marco seemed pleased that Hannibal was enjoying himself, and waited expectantly as Will took the glass and sat down with them at the table.

He twisted the stem between his fingers, bringing the glass to his nose for a sniff.  He hummed thoughtfully as he tried to identify the scents, and although he’d never have as refined a palette as Hannibal, he’d made quite a bit of progress during their friendship. He brought the rim to his lips, tipping it back and let the flavors sink into his tongue. Hannibal and Marco watched him with wide eyes, waiting for his analysis.

“It’s tannic, but softened by … some sort of floral note, maybe violets?” Will said, his voice spiking with uncertainty. Hannibal nodded agreeably, subtly encouraging him to continue. “Something sweet, I think … raspberries?”

Marco grinned, pleased. “Yes, _very good_!” he said, letting out a bellowing laugh.

Hannibal set his hand on Will’s thigh, in a brief, oddly comforting display of affection. It was strange for them to act natural at all in front of other people, and the gesture made Will’s heart leap into his throat unexpectedly. His eyes flitted to the other gentleman, clearly unaffected by their relationship, not reacting at all to the display of endearment.

“He’s _coming along_ ,” Hannibal said, making flirtatious heart-eyes at his companion. “Thanks to me.”

Will blushed, but still his lips turned up reluctantly into a smile. He rolled his eyes stubbornly.  

“ _Lush_ …” Will muttered, and all three of them laughed together, taking sips from their respective drinks.

“Marco has a friend with a casale for rent in the hills,” Hannibal offered, changing the subject, looking to Will a bit more earnestly. “He’s been trying to find new tenants.”

Will looked up with focused attention as Marco nodded, “Yes, we were discussing before you joined us, Phillip.” Hannibal met Will’s eyes, casting him a knowing, quick glance.

Will’s face broke into a smile. “When can we see it?”

 

* * *

  
The small villa tucked away in the hills was almost too perfect to be true. Recessed back from the main roads, it was easily hidden by the overgrowth and offered an abundant sense of privacy. A sprawling field out back extended to the edge of the woods that surrounded them to the north, with wild vegetation growing around the trees, vining up their trunks.

They only stayed with Marco at the inn for two days, his friend apparently eager to have the extra income of renters. When they left, it was obvious by their goodbyes that Marco and Hannibal had become quite chummy, and Will imagined he’d end up being a familiar face as he made his way out back to find the collie mix out back and muss his fur once more.

Will smiled brightly at the thought of having this carved out little existence here with Hannibal. _Fuck, that’s embarrassing_ , he thought stubbornly.

_Stop smiling, you fool!_ He couldn’t.

As they arrived at the villa, Will was surprised to find everything fully furnished, and many of the stylistic preferences were suspiciously similar to that of his ever-peculiar traveling companion. “This is … _really_ nice,” Will said, eyeing Hannibal up and down.

Hannibal looked smug. “Yes, _it is_.”

“Did you do this?” Will asked, admiring the abstract painting that hung in the dining room, bold and dark colors reminding him all too much of Hannibal. 

The older man shrugged ambiguously. “I may have.”

Will looked around, inspecting, and mostly amazed at Hannibal’s obsessive devotion to good taste. “How did you …”

“The internet is a wonderful thing, Will.” He beamed at the younger man, clearly hoping to be praised for his antics.

Will continued his way through the house. “You’re unbelievable.” His mild tone disappointed Hannibal, his face falling into a frown.

“I thought you’d like it,” he said, feigning extreme disappointment, drawing his brows together. He ushered Will down the hall with an open palm, leading him to the bedroom.

Will’s eyes opened wide at the sight of the bedroom, decorated unlike anything he’d seen before in Hannibal’s old house or office, yet undeniably influenced by his eccentric style. An extraordinary Persian rug in brilliant green hues sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by hand-carved walnut furniture. The bed was a fucking piece of art - the frame coming up with ornate, sculpted wood and the crisp, ivory linens were fresh and unimaginably soft under his touch as he ran a finger along the length of the covers.

“This is beautiful, Hannibal,” he said earnestly, looking around the room, taking in the various designs and decor. He touched a weird little sculpture on the wall, a coat of arms with daggers meeting in the middle, absently testing its weight.

Hannibal’s lips spread open into a grin. “Thank you,” he said proudly, “the bed is truly spectacular.”

Will giggled at this for some reason. _He fucking would_. “I’m sure it is _spectacular_ ,” he said, teasing playfully.

Hannibal sighed. “Will, I take my sleeping habits quite seriously you know.” 

“Oh _okay_ , I didn’t realize it was so serious.” Will made an exaggerated face, teasing the older man with his eyebrows raised.

Hannibal glared at him. “I _love_ my bed, Will.”

“Okay!” he shouted back, accidentally letting a high-pitched laugh escape. “I didn’t realize you were having a love affair with the bed.” He snickered, but bit down over his bottom lip to keep from laughing again.

“I’m very selective about my where I spend over a third of day, and believe that to be perfectly reasonable.” Hannibal sighed irritably, not giving in to Will’s attempts at cuteness. Not on this issue, anyways. _The bed is sacred_.  

Will cocked his head to the side, recognizing the heightened defense he’d built over this, suddenly feeling a bit intrigued. He walked forward, closing the space between the two of them. Hannibal stood firm, looking down at him, distrusting his motives.

“Do you love your bed more than ...” he paused, grinning as he thought, “ _your cooking_?” Will asked, his voice low, purring. He stepped forward, and Hannibal stepped one foot back, backing up against the bed.

“Yes,” he said, flicking his eyebrows, a flair lighting a spark in his golden eyes.

Will hummed, questioning. “Do you love your bed more than  …” He paused, pushing forward against Hannibal, who fought the force of falling back onto the bed. 

… _more than me_?” Will bit his bottom lip, running his tongue along the flesh.

Hannibal’s mouth twitched, the corners lifting slightly. Will pushed a hand against his chest, and he gave in, letting himself fall back against the sheets. Crawling up his body slowly, Will stilled when he found himself face to face with Hannibal, their breath wisping hot and sharp on each other’s skin. Will lowered his head, placing his mouth on Hannibal’s neck, sucking softly, tracing his tongue in circles as he moved down to his collarbone. He groaned happily in response and at once Will moved, slithering back down the length of his body, over his legs, off the end of the bed. When his feet were planted on the ground, he lowered his head once again, this time to Hannibal’s lap, kissing along the outside of his pants.

Will paused, looking up through his lashes. “I think I love these _jeans_ more than anything,” he said in a low growl, before taking his fingers to work on Hannibal’s fly, undoing it slowly.

His hands moved to the pockets and he slipped his fingertips over their hem, tugging at them, yanking with an impatient force, managing to take his briefs in the same swipe. Hannibal watched the younger man work, mouth parted, hungry eyes narrowed and focused.

With Hannibal’s pants and underwear around his ankles, Will began to tease along the inside of his thigh, planting the lightest kisses on his skin, moving up ... painfully slow.

“ _Is your bed as amazing as this_?” he whispered, pressing the words into his skin, Hannibal groaning at the vibrations in his voice.

Slowly and methodically Will moved his lips over the tip of Hannibal's cock, lingering to meet Hannibal's absolutely vulgar gaze. He pursed his lips, licking over his head, flattening his tongue as he ran it along the underside. Hannibal's eyes rolled back into his head at the rush of sensations.

Will grazed his lips up and down his shaft, kissing along the length with soft, sucking touches. As the cock twitched against his tongue, Will pulled back to open his mouth as wide as he could, demonstratively taking him in whole. He swallowed him all the way to the base, managing to hold down a gag as Hannibal pumped his hips, fucking into the back of Will's throat. He sucked upwards, his lips creating a tortuous vacuum of pleasure, but instead of going back down he let Hannibal slip free, and moved his attention below.

He licked between the center of his balls, and then took one into his mouth, rounding his lips and tongue around it with velvety warmth. With another absent groan, Hannibal bucked his hips toward Will, the underside of his shaft brushing against his face, creating a glistening trail of precum down his cheek. Will released the balls from his mouth and shifted himself, parting Hannibal's legs wider and wider as if he were _impossibly_ agile, and somehow it seemed he was.

Hannibal's ecstasy-hooded eyes looked down at him, eyeing him - daring him to go further.

Not breaking eye contact, Will took one last slickened kiss along his rock-hard shaft and dove down, dragging his tongue again along the center of his balls, but this time he didn't stop, trailing down that flat stretch of skin until his tongue hit the muscles around his hole, licking over the ridges with precise motions, as they flexed and opened under his touch. 

Hannibal made a completely fucking obscene noise, the kind of growling whimper that could’ve easily been confused with a fatally-wounded beast. His thighs quivered wildly and Will felt the vibrations resonate in his shoulders, igniting a shiver straight to his own cock, which insistantly reminded him that it was being ignored.

“ _Hannibal_ ,” he whispered, humming the words against the sensitive skin around his opening.

The older man threw his head back, exhaling a sharp breath of frustration, his whole body tense and out of control, desperate from teetering so close to the edge.

Will darted a hot, slick tongue inside him, sinking it deep into that tight space, rolling his tongue around the clenched muscles. Hannibal let out a final cry of submission and turned into a heaving pile of whimpers under Will’s deft tongue.

“Please,” he begged, out of breath, as Will pulled back, temporarily ceasing his oral demonstration.

_“Wiiillllll_ ,” Hannibal said, drawn out in a loud, long groan, his hips thrusting absently, frustrated from the loss of attention. Will lifted a brow, using his very specific, secret weapon of a facial expression, and let his eyes grow impossibly wide.

“Say it.” His mouth twitched deviously, briefly smiling.

Hannibal panted helplessly for a few cycles of breaths. “Will Graham,” he said, chest rising and falling in dramatic swells, “I love you.” 

Will didn't move. “Go on.” 

Hannibal coughed out a laugh under a sharp exhale. “... _more_ than my bed.”

Will's face lit up, the pleased smile infectiously taking over his expression.

Hannibal nudged his hips towards him, still impatiently waiting. “Now _shut up and finish_.” He grabbed a handful of dark hair and shoved him playfully into his groin, which Will accepted with ample enthusiasm, grinning right into his cock. 

He swallowed Hannibal once again without hesitation, working diligently along his length. It wasn't long before he felt the urgent twitching against his lips as Hannibal approached the edge, and finally that liquid heat against the back of his throat, and again, Will happily accepted.

After their ‘Great Christening’, it was determined that they both were madly in love ... with the bed.  
  
_And the man that came with it_.

******************

[Edited to add a little deleted scene from this chapter! Singing in the Car.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8194073)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for some feels. Under the stars.

The quaint, rustic kitchen clamored with the sound of metal against metal, the spoon scraping and knocking against the side of the bowl. Hannibal dipped his head down to savor the smell, and though his keen senses had already identified the various aromas, he went through an extended performance of sniffing and evaluating his culinary creation, concluding with a satisfied, curt nod of the head.

When he put down the bowl, he became suddenly aware of how quiet the house had become. No sounds of Will tinkering around the house, fixing a shelf or fiddling with the plumbing. It was an older place, and he’d yet to run out of things to busy himself with in these first few weeks. Their sink was no longer dripping, though, and none of the door hinges were squeaking. The side of his mouth twitched up in a smile as he thought of waking up that morning to Will, laying on his back in the kitchen, as he clanked his wrench against the pipes.

The Chianti Hannibal had opened earlier remained on the counter, only a glass or so left in the bottle, so he filled his glass with the remainder and peered around the corners, looking for any sign of Will. He spun around gracefully, surveying the area, and noticed the latch on the back door had been unfastened.

Hannibal swung the door open and followed the trail. When an empty glass of wine on the veranda table confirmed he was on the right track, he looked out into the sprawling fields of grass, but found it impossible to see anything under the stark blanket of nightfall.  

From somewhere across the field, there was a small voice. “ _Over here_.”  
  
Hannibal set his glass with the other and walked cautiously, following the direction of the voice, until he kicked a foot into something hard.

“Ouch, _Jesus_ …” said the shadowy form beneath him. “Down here.”

When he lowered himself to the ground, Hannibal could just barely make out the frame of his hair, blown out curls swishing in every direction against a backdrop of grass and clover, sprawled out on his back, staring up at the stars. For a moment Hannibal forgot how to breathe; he was frozen, marveling at Will’s irrepressible beauty that not even the pitch black of night could conceal.

Will cleared his throat to get his attention.

Hannibal refocused himself and looked warily at the dew-dampened ground, reluctantly easing himself into a sitting position, taking up a spot next to Will. He shifted once on the ground, settling in.

“Escaping already?” Hannibal asked, the grin audible in his tone (as well as the not-very-subtle hint of self doubt).  

Will didn’t move except for the gentle rising and falling of his breath. “ _Escaping_? That’s not the exact word I’d use, no.” He sounded light, like he was locked far away within a dream.

Hannibal didn’t respond, the heavy silence interrupted only by the sweet current that filled the air with juniper and sage, carrying over from the nearby overgrowth.

The ground rustled beneath Will as he shifted his legs a bit, humming out loud as if forming a thought, but taking his very sweet time do so.“More like … _fortifying_ ,” he said thoughtfully. Will raised himself up as he spoke, mimicking Hannibal’s sitting position, but facing the opposite direction.

Hannibal hummed agreeably. “Building up your defenses,” Hannibal he said, more like a fact than a question. “Are you expecting a siege?”

Will huffed out an ironic laugh. “Aren’t we _always_?” His voice wavered as he turned and faced Hannibal.

“We’re safe here, Will,” he said, softly, his words careful, but genuine. When Will didn’t respond, he swallowed, harboring a troubling thought.

“Unless it’s _me_ you’re afraid of,” Hannibal whispered. The silence that followed nearly buried him, accompanied by the inundation of soured memories and failed forgiveness, secrets. Deception.

Will’s head tilted upwards, his gaze shifting back to the sky. “I used to look at Orion nearly every night when I was a kid,” he said quietly.

Hannibal stilled, resisting the urge to respond given the rarity of Will even mentioning his childhood, and he forced himself to remain quiet, acting as if Will were an easily startled doe on the edge of taking flight.

“Became a habit, I guess. Parents would fight. Eventually someone would throw a beer bottle and sooner or later I’d push through the screen in my window, making my _big escape_.” Will said the last words with air quotes, dripping with sarcasm.

“Except I never had anywhere _to go_. So I’d sit on this hackneyed, wooden swing that my dad had hung from this twisted up oak tree. Goddamned thing never sat right, and I _always_ had fucking splinters.” Will’s nostalgia-tainted laugh infected Hannibal, who chuckled along with him, matching his tone as he devoured every molecule of the conversation.  

Will scooted across the ground, placing himself back to back with Hannibal, relaxing into the body behind him. He let his head fall backward, resting it gently against the back of Hannibal’s neck, and inhaled sharply.

“I had the same, predictable - _pathetic_ \- routine. I’d sneak out to the swing, force myself to find as many constellations as I could until it was quiet enough inside. I always started with Orion. I did the points first, every time. Betelgeuse, Bellatrix and so on. Then the belt. Even if it was cloudy, I’d just guess where it was, and repeat the names in my head.”

 _Not pathetic_ , Hannibal corrected to himself, still not daring to speak. He imagined young Will, hands gripped tight around the frayed rope, swaying back and forth, his hair whipping and tangling in the wind against the force of his motion.

Will continued. “One night I snuck out, like any other time. But _this_ particular time, my mom was already there - outside - just sort of hanging to my swing, barely even holding on.” His voice tightened, and he tried to clear his throat to steady it. “Empty bottle of vodka at her feet.”

“She said, ‘Will, have you ever seen Orion?’

“And I told her no, even though obviously I’d seen it a hundred times. So she managed to point upward, trying to name the stars in the belt. She could only remember one of them, of course.” Will chased the thought with a humorless laugh, and then a sigh. “Mintaka,” he added. “She called it ‘mint-ka-ka’ though, and I didn’t bother correcting her.”

Hannibal felt Will’s shoulders flex, shrugging. “She was my mother, so I just let her go on ... and on. I remember feeling as if I _owed it_ to her, to allow her this sort of contrived moment of guiding wisdom.”

Hannibal leaned his head back into Will’s, nuzzling softly in a simple gesture of comfort.

Will swallowed hard. “She stopped talking after a while, and just … sat there, staring off into space, for what seemed like an eternity. I didn’t know what else to do, so I just stood there with her, waiting. When she didn’t say anything, I reached out to her, tried to grab her arm and she just yanked it away, almost like instinct, and practically scrambled to her feet.”

“I didn’t understand. I said, ‘What’s wrong, Mom?’ I knew it was a loaded question, even then, but I didn't know what else to say.”

“When she turned and looked at me, I remember instantly recognizing that haze over her eyes. The same lazy, liquor-fueled expression that preceded every fucked up moment of my life until that point.”

“She said, ‘God, Will, _we’re all so fucking insignificant._ ’”

Hannibal heard the tears behind the voice, hitching breaths catching in his throat. “I said to her, ‘I don’t think you’re insignificant, Mom.’ And she fucking smiled, and it was just … so cold. She said, ‘Well, _I am_. And you are, too.’

Hannibal’s breath felt thick, almost suffocating, and he tried not to let any sound escape, for fear of it turning into a sob.

“She walked off then, and when I woke up the next morning, she was gone. Left me and my dad, and that was it. We became … _insignificant_.”

Hannibal moved his hand over Will’s and guided their fingers together, clutching tightly … _protective_. His lashes were heavy, dampened by the welling of tears, but he’d so far managed to fight them back.

Will’s voice started cracking, breaking apart. “And despite what a _terrible_ mother - alcoholic, human being - she was, I’d never _once_ thought to question the last words she said to me. Even after she died.”

Hannibal felt as if he’d explode if he stayed silent any longer. “Will -“

“...  _until I met you_ ,” he whispered softly. The words left a discernible silence as both men caught their breath. 

At last Will tugged the hand that gripped his own and allowed himself to be pulled into the broad shoulders. Hannibal placed soft kisses into his hair as he folded his arms around Will, letting one hand caress gently down his back, in soothing, repetitive motions. Hannibal felt a cool spot on his chest where tears had permeated through the barrier of his shirt.

Will lifted his head slowly and stared up helplessly, completely defenseless. His giant eyes brimmed with too many emotions and feelings, like he couldn't sort through them properly to settle on just one. 

“Hannibal,” he whispered, his name a desperate plea, “You make me feel … _significant_.”

Whatever force of control had kept Hannibal’s tears in check evaporated immediately, and a steady stream trailed down his cheeks as he pulled Will in close once again. “You _are_ significant, Will,” he said, stroking his hair, and rocking slightly, a sweet and tender sway. He sniffled back fresh tears, letting Hannibal cradle him.

“I feel that way. When I’m with you,” Will said, mouthing the words into Hannibal’s chest, the vibrations stirring his heart, pumping it even faster, beating loudly between his ears. “… But it fucking _terrifies_ me.”

The words twisted at Hannibal’s heart more than he’d prefer, stinging his ego a bit, but he stayed dutifully attached to the limp pile of rags that had folded himself into his lap, continuing the comforting and caresses.

" _I don't want to hurt you, Will_ ," Hannibal said quietly, his voice so small and shaky, barely holding back another sob. " _You're safe_."  
  
When Will had finally stilled and his breathing settled, Hannibal scooped him up in his arms, requiring no small effort, his muscles burning and joints aching under the substantial weight of the other man. It was a burden he carried happily, his reward coming in the form of Will’s pliant appendages, shifting and forming to his own body, nails digging into the skin on his back as he clung to the older man as if his life depended on it.

Will thought maybe it did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took longer than I expected! Spontaneous case of the sickies.


End file.
